


Let It Rain

by Aelwyn



Series: Vignettes of Rose and the Doctor [9]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fobwatched Doctor (Doctor Who), Pete Tyler (Pete’s World) (mentioned), Reunion Fic, Rewrite of Family of Blood, Rewrite of Human Nature, Sixth Doctor (mentioned), Sixth Doctor/Rose Tyler (mentioned), Time Lady!Rose Tyler - Freeform, jackie tyler (mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/pseuds/Aelwyn
Summary: After twelve years and family tragedy, Rose Tyler is ready to go home. But it’s been even longer for the Doctor, and he’s not quite himself. But not matter the years, the names they use, or the face he wears, they will always be the Doctor and Rose...
Relationships: Eighth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Vignettes of Rose and the Doctor [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1436614
Comments: 14
Kudos: 133





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This story assumes that all of Season 1 and Season 2 progressed as they did in the show except that the Time War has not happened yet, the Doctor was Six for both, and that he and Rose were in an established relationship at the beginning of Season 2. 
> 
> Also, toothpaste was invented in the late 1800s and the thermos in 1904. I checked (you’ll understand later).
> 
> The song for this story is “Head Above Water” by Avril Lavigne and covered by Sam Mangubat, listened to here:  
> https://youtu.be/NSqjADpsPfU

_ Rewrite of S3E8 Human Nature (Part 1 of 2) _

_“Did they see you?” The Doctor called anxiously as the ornate doors slammed closed. Lucie picked herself up off the floor and followed him anxiously to the console, ignoring the scattered throw rug she’d upended._

_“No, I- I don’t-“ he paused in his movements around the console to grip her firmly by the shoulders and held her in place, usually-bright blue eyes fiery and dark with inordinate concern._

_“Lucie, this is very important, do you understand? If they saw you, and they smelled me, we’ll be in a lot of trouble. We’re in quite a bit right now, but if they saw you... let’s just say things will be infinitely worse. Now, did. They. See. You.”_

_“No,” Lucie retorted, stress making her Lancashire accent thicker as she tossed some mussed locks of dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. The Doctor searched her expression for a few moments before nodding, stepping back and smoothing his cravat as a nervous tic._

_“Good. Good. We shouldn’t have issue then.”_

_“With what?” She asked, moving quickly around to the other side of the console as she followed his movements. He was pulling something strange, like a metal helmet in its barebones form, down from the ceiling._

_“They have my scent, they’ve got a stolen Vortex Manipulator,” he muttered as he opened a drawer on the console and rifled around until he found a pocket watch covered in Gallifreyan writing. He stuck it into a slot on the headpiece. “I have to hide. In this case, that means temporarily rewriting my physiology to be human and storing my true genetic signature in the watch, which has a- well, not to get too_ Calvin and Hobbes _but it has a Transmogrifiyng Principle, if you will. The catch on the watch has a trigger, which will make me Time Lord again.” He paused, grimacing as he lowered the headpiece onto his thick chestnut curls._

_“There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”_

_“I... it’s going to hurt me, Lucie. And I won’t have my memories. I’ve instructed the TARDIS to give me a false identity - you as well, and no I don’t even know where we’re going - and she’ll land us there for three months. Should be enough time to let those things die off naturally, without bloodshed. Lucie, this is extremely important. Don’t leave me, and don’t let me leave you. Understand?”_

_“You just try it Doctor,” she murmured, subdued. He smiled, though it was strained._

_“Good. And I expect your lip when I inevitably mess up and say something careless. Never can tell how I’ll fare as a human, after all.” He winked as she scowled at him. “Need you to keep me in line.”_

_“I always do,” she whispered. He nodded._

_“Thanks.” The machine turned on and the gothic interior of the TARDIS lit up with bright light as he screamed._

(§)

Rose bit her lip as the Headmaster of Farringham School For Boys attempted to stoke any sort of dialogue whatsoever out of her younger brother Tony. The eleven year old boy remained stifly seated in the chair at her side, soulful brown eyes too old for their owner. He stared out of a gaunt, pale face from under dark sandy blond hair, lips tight and entirely still. 

He’d been all but mute ever since the accident, giving ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers only. His response to her asking if they move back to her prime universe was a mere shrug, staring listlessly out of a window. He flinched whenever he saw a Zeppelin too; it was the main reason she’d wanted to leave, actually. Never mind Torchwood becoming suspicious of the Bad Wolf-induced immortality she’d so successfully hidden for so long, her brother’s welfare took priority. After Mum and Pete... 

They’d crossed over using the Dimension Cannon, landing somewhere in the English countryside on May 1st of 1913. The blasted thing had shorted out immediately afterward, and they’d wandered aimlessly for a few hours before none other than Cpt. Jack Harkness had shown up with his own brand of immortality. They’d chatted fondly about their Doctor with the blue eyes, mess of blond curls, and technicolor dream coat as they walked to the nearest form of civilization, which just so happened to be the quaint little Edwardian village of Farringham. It’s sole source of income outside of farming was the boy’s school up the hill catering to the wealthy elite, and while it wasn’t what Rose had been hoping for she had converted all of her family’s money into gold for transfer. Jack had taken it to convert it back to Pounds, opened an account in London a good few days’ journey Northeast of their location by carriage (cars were only just becoming _decently_ accessible to the middle class, let alone the poor who drove them for the upper crust), and had then went about making her and her brother a set of fake identities. Rose had protested at first, until he’d reminded her that she was public Enemy No. 1 of Torchwood thanks to Queen Victoria. 

Liliana and Timothy Latimer, brother and sister, left a fortune in their parents’ will. The story was that she’d sold the estate, looking for somewhere quiet to raise her brother. It wasn’t as far from the truth as she’d have wished, the very idea painful in its entirety that even a lie couldn’t disguise what had happened. And now she was enrolling Tony in the school, having bought a small cottage at the edge of the tree line far enough outside of town that they could be left alone but close enough she could easily walk into town.

As a matter of fact the cottage had belonged to the old gamekeeper of the school when the buildings had been part of a large estate. Due to the special circumstances of things, the Headmaster was lending it to her. She could stay there so long as she earned her keep as assistant librarian to one Mr. Cutclose, and Tony wouldn’t have to stay in the dorms. It was temporary, was the understanding on both parties, and Rose was just grateful she’d been offered it at all. Jack had probably buttered things up for her, if she was being honest with herself. 

September 10th, 1913

Lucie tried not to fidget with the hem of her dress as the Doct- _Johnathan Tyler_ spoke with the headmaster. She despised dresses in any form, but period dresses from the early 20th century still required corsets so they were much worse than anything she could ever use in her own time period. She was supposed to be his cousin, his father and her mother having been close despite her mother having had a falling out. This accounted for her accent being different from his as well as her place of birth, the falling out portion explaining why they hadn’t spent childhood together yet giving a reasonable explanation as to why she was there. Her job was to function as the head nurse’s aid, being a general dogsbody as it were. Nurse Joan Redfern seemed nice enough, but Lucie wasn’t in the mind for making friends in this place despite having to be stuck there for three whole months. At present the D- _John_ was figuring out the sleeping arrangements for the pair of them. 

She looked up as the two men walked out of the headmaster’s office, having come to some sort of agreement.

“Headmaster Roscastle was able to find me rooms within the school itself, but I’m afraid the only sleeping quarters available for women are in the servant’s hall,” D- _John_ said regretfully. “He has in his employ, however, another unmarried woman who lives in a cottage on the edge of the estate grounds. It’s within walking distance of both the school and the village. Would that suit you, Lucie?”

“Would it ever,” Lucie sighed, relieved. The idea of being able to watch the school from a distance, maybe even bring the TARDIS closer into the woods to the cottage for convenience, was wonderful. John beamed at her, clapping his hands together. 

“Oh, splendid. I uh, I’ll need to drop my things off in my room, and then I’ll help you with yours. Yes?”

“Sure. Lemme help ya with yours, and we’ll cut the time in half.”

“I knew we were related,” he laughed. Lucie rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, to which he feigned mock agony, and then they were off. 

John’s quarters were tidy and efficient. The wash closet was just down the hall - yet another reason Lucie relished the idea of not being in dorms, public restrooms for more than two people - and there was one large space with a wardrobe and a small library attached. A bed, a fireplace, and some furniture like an armchair and a desk. There was also an empty bookshelf awaiting tomes and the odd knickknack or two. He set his bags down on the bed and went over to one of the windows, pointing out toward the tree line.

“See, Lucie? You’re right over there.” She came up behind him and peered out, nodding in approval. 

Once they’d grabbed her luggage they trekked the moderately long but easy walk to the cottage, knocking on the door and waiting patiently. A few minutes ticked past and they exchanged a glance.

“The headmaster did say we were coming, didn’t he?” Lucie muttered. John frowned. 

“Should have done. Despite being an out-building the cottage is fully modernized with indoor plumbing, electric lighting, and a working phone line. They used to get guest lecturers who would stay here for the night.”

“Better knock again, I suppose.” He did so at her suggestion, and after waiting a good few minutes more he raised his hand to knock again. Just as his knuckles connected with the wood the door swung open and they both blinked at the sullen, quiet boy staring up at them.

“Hello there,” John said brightly, crouching down so that the child could look down at him rather than up. “What’s your name then?” The boy merely continued to stare at them and they shifted uncomfortably. “Um, your mother wouldn’t be home by any chance would she?”

“No.”

“Oh. Will she be back soon then?”

“She’s never coming back. Neither her nor my dad.” John’s eyebrows flew into his hairline. 

“I don’t-“

“To- Timothy Latimer!” A young woman shouted. The two guests whirled around to see her running from the village. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she panted. “I was getting supplies for our dinner. You’re Lucie Miller, yeah? Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Lucie murmured, frowning at the D- _John_ as he stared at the woman in something akin to awe. Her natural golden hair was falling in several pieces from her bun, her cheeks were flushed from the run she’d just had, and her mouth was slightly open as she caught her breath. She wasn’t all that bad looking, either. “This stupid lump’s my cousin, Johnathan Tyler. Say hello and quit ogling, ya daft-“

“John,” he said abruptly, holding out his hand. The woman raised an eyebrow at both the surname and the strange greeting but accepted it.

“Lilian Latimer.”

“Lilian Latimer,” he repeated, an odd cadence to his voice. “Lily. Lily Latimer. May I call you Lily?” The woman shrugged. 

“Suppose.” She gently patted Timothy- or Tim Lucie supposed- on the head and watched fondly as he trudged back into the cottage. “Don’t mind him. He’s been out of sorts for ages.”

“He’s a fine boy,” John said admiringly. “You must be a very proud mother.”

“...He’s my brother, actually. My... our... parents died last year. I decided the move would be good for him.”

“Oh, I- I’m so sorry.” Lily waved her hand dismissively. 

“Nah, don’t be. I worry, because he isn’t engaging with the other kids or speaking at all really aside from simple yes and no, but he’ll adjust eventually.”

“I’ll be sure to give him special attention in my classes so he doesn’t fall behind,” John promised softly. “The least I can do for you taking in my cousin.” 

“Speakin’ a which, you’re probably wondering about your room aren’t you?”

“I was, ye-“

“Well, we’ll get you squared away and then both of you will join us for dinner. Sound good?” John and Lucie simply blinked at her, and then at one another, as she turned and strode purposefully into the cottage.

(§)

November 10th, 1913

Rose sighed, biting her lip as she looked herself over in the mirror. 

Biologically, she looked to be in her mid-twenties. That was when it happened, after all. It had been small things at first, then larger ones. For starters, she should have died. Instead, she burst into gold light and regenerated. Not that she had changed her appearance or personality, mind; it was all under the surface. Each time she died, or sort of regenerated, things changed. And she’d had more than a few deaths during her tenure at Torchwood. 

First, she woke up with time senses and the ability to manipulate it this way and that. 

Second, her skin and hair had changed. The texture was slightly different, and it was harder to pierce. Her hair had gone from bleached blonde to natural honey gold. She had scars that were no longer there.

Third, her senses had heightened considerably and she’d acquired several more than she had once had. Her mind had become infinitely more complex to handle that influx of information and as a result she was telepathic and had an eidetic memory. A small Gallifreyan book she’d seen in the library the last day of her stay on the TARDIS made sense to her, both the Old High and circular portions. Languages were picked up alarmingly fast and academic subjects were excelled in where she had previously struggled.

Fourth, her stamina, endurance, strength, speed... it was all much higher than it had been before, to say nothing of her healing abilities. She was now pretty much immune to most poisonous substances including alcohol, had a severe (life-threatening) aspirin allergy, and was intolerant (could get drunk on) ginger. 

Fifth, she’d developed a respiratory bypass and gained full autonomy over her bodily functions. She’d also stopped having periods, but she _really_ didn’t want to think about the reason for that. Additionally, her body temperature had lowered.

Sixth, she’d acquired a triple helix DNA strand with a fourth strand that was only visible when viewed by a scanner that was temporally aligned (of course Torchwood had one of those). What was more, she realized she was no longer aging in the slightest as the biological profile taken four years after the first incident still saw her as four years younger than she actually was. 

Rose knew what was going on, had been going on for a while. She was turning into a Gallifreyan, and a Time Lady Gallifreyan to boot. The next step, she figured, was gaining a second heart and completing the transformation. 

“Bad Wolf,” she muttered. The Doctor had sent her home in the TARDIS when caught on the Gamestation surrounded by Daleks, and she’d ripped open its Heart to get back to him. She’d destroyed the Dalek fleet, resurrected Jack (albeit imperfectly, unfortunately, as he was now a Fixed Point), and then... 

The Doctor had asked her to let go of that power. And for a brief, shining moment, he’d kissed her when she refused. Timelines had exploded in her mind and she had picked the one that she felt was best only to forget about it once she’d lost the power of the Time Vortex, and instead of letting him take it from her she’d set the timeline in motion, then let go herself. She’d fallen unconscious in his colorful arms and awoken in the TARDIS’ infirmary, remembering everything that had happened as Bad Wolf except for what she’d seen and done of the timelines. 

He’d kissed her. In the infirmary, she’d kissed him. And he’d kissed back. And they’d run together, the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS just as it should be, and then came the Cybermen from Pete’s World. Then came Bad Wolf Bay, and then came- 

Then came her mum and sorta dad getting married, and Tony, and a job at Torchwood as she’d worked on the Dimension Cannon. It hadn’t worked. But when she’d changed she saw what was wrong, and she’d fixed it. And she’d come home. 

Rose touched the chain around her neck and the ring that hung there. The bio damper the Doctor had given her with the sapphire stone on a silver band. It wasn’t fancy, certainly not an engagement band at all and more practical than anything else, meant to be worn only when needed during a moment where humans had been hunted on some extremely forgettable planet somewhere. The Doctor had a simple gold band to match, actually. The hunters had decided Time Lord wasn’t off the menu. 

It was odd, posing as a married couple when you’d only been dating a few weeks, but it was also strangely them. 

Something foreboding shivered along the timelines and Rose sucked in a breath, slipping the ring from around its chain and onto her ring finger. Instantly she felt safer. Why, she didn’t know, but the tiny bit of protection eased some worries. 

Lucie would be getting up soon, and needing the loo. They’d got on splendidly the past two months, John stopping by every evening for dinner with them, and Rose was relieved to see that under his gentle and attentive care he was steadily coaxing Tony out of his depression. The boy was speaking in full sentences again - albeit short and soft-spoken ones - and his marks in all of his classes were steadily improving. Having a genius as a tutor and a sister who understood temporal physics was useful, it seemed, as well. 

Rose heard the tell-tale sounds of someone waking up and hurried to finish up in the bathroom, slipping out just in time for Lucie to slip in seamlessly. 

~§~

_“What’s that smell?”_

_“Apple grass.”_

_“Apple grass...” Rose moaned happily, sinking onto the thick grass in question and inhaling deeply. The Doctor laughed as she did so and shucked his colorful coat, sitting upon it and spreading out their picnic basket._

_“Well, come on then. Do you want the strawberries or don’t you?”_

_“I do!” She protested, scrambling unceremoniously over and plopping down on the coat. She rolled onto her back, batting her eyelashes, and he felt his hearts climb into his throat as he fed her one of the bright red berries. She nipped playfully at his fingers and his breath caught; this was all still so new, so brilliant and wonderful and terrifying all at once. But it was perfect._

John woke with a gasp, the chill air of his room suggesting the cool air of near-winter rather than the idle warmth of early summer on an alien world billions of years in the future. He sat up and groaned, blushing as he remembered the way he’d been acting and had felt about his companion Rose. She looked and acted startlingly like Lily, and he could admit to himself that there was a reason for that. She was... she was... well. She just was. Smart, beautiful, compassionate, impossibly amazing. 

The dreams had come and gone with little frequency during the first month and a half, but then she’d flashed him a tongue-touched grin like she’d never done before and suddenly he got one vividly every single evening. He was always a different man in them; dark sandy blond curls, dark blue eyes, _horrendous_ fashion sense, and a rather unforgivable disposition. To everyone, that is, but Rose. She was his soft spot, coaxing praise and genuine, heartsfelt responses to her affections as if trying to get the last bit of paste out of the toothpaste tube (methodical, attentive, and determined not to let any of it go to waste even if it took a substantial amount of time to get the very last dollop out of it). 

There was a knock at the door and he groaned again, standing swiftly and donning his bathrobe.

“Come in,” he mumbled groggily as he tied the sash firmly about his waist. Lucie whistled cheerfully as she wandered in, a strange tune that she said she’d grown up with even thought he could have sworn it wasn’t right somehow, and set a small linen-wrapped parcel on the desk. 

“That’s your breakfast,” she said simply as she produced a thermos and poured out steaming tea into a cup. “Lily made fresh bread and baked some cranberries she found at market into it.”

“Oh, but it is better to give thanks for the bounties of the gods than to partake greedily without virtuous admiration first tumbling forth from unworthy lips,” John sighed, taking a sip of the tea and sighing in pleasure. He nibbled on the bread and hummed. 

“You touched in the head or something?” Lucie asked bluntly. He rolled his eyes and made a shooing motion with his free hand, indicating that he wanted to get dressed. She smirked and left, closing the door behind her. 

With breakfast so wondrously delivered as if by providence straight to him without his needing to obtain it from the dining hall, John went about his morning routine. He was soon breathing deeply of crisp fall air of the unseasonably warmer kind on his way to his first class, passing the boys headed toward theirs as he crossed the front drive. 

He quite liked teaching history. There was always something new to uncover, some fascinating tidbit that entirely changed how things were perceived, and he had a good head for it to boot. His students openly voiced their opinion that he provided ample homework (which he often forgot to grade until the early morning before it was due to hand back) but made the usually-dull subject engaging, particularly enjoying the active class structure where he treated them more as peers than subordinates. No other Professor did things that way, and the difference was clear in the way most of his students seemed excited about their studies for the class. 

...They particularly liked it when he got so excited about something he jumped on top of desks and paced about the room, leaping from one to the next in his stride, or when he allowed students to act out famous duels with sticks found in the yard, but the word was ‘Mum’ lest they be forbidden to engage in such activities ever again. 

He was on his way to his room for a few books - okay, a lot of books, and then to the library when he passed his cousin in the hallway, walking quickly to avoid catching her ire. She was already laying into two of the schoolboys for picking on the maids, and when she got into a mood like that she usually found some sort of fault with him as well simply on familial principle. 

After collecting his Leaning Tower of Paperbacks he walked back into the hall, bumping into Nurse Redfern and knocking some of the literature off the top. She deftly caught them before they hit the floor and he winced. 

“So sorry about that,” he apologized. “It’s just, I can’t rightly see all that well at the moment.” There was a slightly awkward silence. “So, um. How was Jenkins?”

“Just a cold, poor boy, I think he was missing his mother,” Joan replied with a sympathetic pursing of the lips. John murmured a sound of sympathy himself. “Well he received a letter this morning, appeared to be a lot more chipper. And I appear to be holding some of your books.” 

“...Right. If you could just, um, plop them back in their rightful spot on top of the pile.” 

“Or I could take half, and we could continue our conversation,” she said with a pretty smile. He swallowed as she did so without waiting for a response. 

“I was just taking them back to the library,” he explained. “I’m a bit forgetful and a closet hoarder to boot, so the end result is a stack of novels and a hefty late fee, delivered via threat of a slap from Lil- Ms. Latimer should I fail to return them by the end of the day.”

“She and your cousin share lodging together, is that correct?” Joan asked. She hadn’t missed the slip of the first name before he’d recovered propriety. 

“Yes, I’m down there every evening for supper and usually stay late into the night to talk with them. It’s rather stimulating conversation, and both are dab hands at card games. We’ve been hoping to get a Bridge game going, but need a fourth. Lucie was going to ask you if you’d consider, actually, but since she was supposed to do that last week I suppose it’s slipped her mind.”

“She did ask, actually,” Joan countered. They had turned into the hall outside the library. “I declined.”

“Really? Why?” She frowned slightly. There was no way she was going to tell him it was because she’d wanted him to ask her, but not because his cousin had seemingly forgotten.

“I’m not a fan of cards,” she said instead. 

“Oh, but that’s a pity Matron,” he protested. She winced.

“I’d much rather you call me ‘Nurse Redfern’ when we’re alone,” she said, summoning her courage. “Matron just seems so... formal. And, I know we’ve known each other all of two months, but...” she paused next to the grand staircase. “But you could call me Joan. And it’s ‘John,’ isn’t it?”

“Ah... ‘Johnathan,’ Nurse Redfern,” he corrected somewhat nervously, taking an unheeding step backward toward the stairs. She sighed slightly, then nodded toward the billboard posted on the wall facing the stairs.

“Have you seen this? The village dance? Maybe thinking about going?”

“Well, I-“

“It’s been ages since anyone asked me to a dance...”

“I was thinking about asking Lil- _Ms. Latimer_ ,” John said regretfully. He then brightened. “But, tell you what. Ask Mr. Cutclose. She tells me he’s been pining after you for ages but hasn’t got the nerve.” Joan blinked at that new piece of information, surprised. But then she noticed...

“The stairs,” she warned.

“Yes? What about them?” 

“Well, they’re right-“ he promptly fell backward down them with a startled yelp, books scattering to the four corners of the wind, and she rushed forward to check his condition only to see that he’d been caught at the landing by the arms and was looking up into Lilian Latimer’s face with such an adoring, hopelessly besotted expression that Joan realized she’d never had a chance. Especially when Lilian was looking down at him, an exasperated mask firmly in place as she bit her lip trying not to laugh. 

Joan considered Mr. Cutclose in a new light. He was young, fit. He had dark hair and jade green eyes, freckles, wore glasses, and spotted a truly tremendous mustache. Aside from being well-groomed he had a gentle temperament and general sense of optimism, and she decided he wasn’t too bad a catch. True, not the one she’d been expecting to hook, but a good haul anyway. And, as another plus, entirely attainable it seemed. Hm. Worth looking into. 

~§~

“Hey, Latimer!” Hutchinson called. He tossed his primer onto the floor. “Here you go. Latin translation. Blasted Catullus. Want it done by morning.”

“Sir?” Tony answered sullenly.

“No mistakes. Want it done in my best handwriting.”

“Forgive me, _sir_ , but I was under the impression we were all supposed to do our own work,” Tony retorted. Hutchinson scowled and he raised an eyebrow. “You seem to be forgetting that I have additional private tutelage under Professor Tyler. What would happen if he found _your primer_ in _my_ schoolthings?”

“Cheeky little rat makes sense,” Baines chuckled. Hutchinson rolled his eyes, casting Tony one last glare as he picked up his primer and tossed it in with his other belongings. The commons was empty save for the three of them. “Has your father been promoted yet?”

“Yes,” Hutchinson replied, glad for the change of subject. “Means more money. Might be able to leave this place, go to a better school.”

“Johannesburg is lovely at this time of year,” Tony replied absently, focused on his textbook. 

“What?”

“Africa.”

“Have you been reading my post?” Hutchinson exclaimed.

“What? No! I just- I thought I heard you say- I must have just gotten a lucky guess,” Tony explained morosely. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I genuinely thought for some reason that you’d mentioned it.” He gathered his books and hurried from the room. “Sorry.”

“What an odd duck!” Baines snickered. Hutchinson said nothing, merely frowned at his retreating back.

~§~

“John, it’s freezing out here!” Lucie complained from the doorway of the cottage. “Come back inside!” 

“Nonsense!” He retorted cheerfully. “Just a bit brisk! Besides, no clearer night to show young Timothy here the stars and help him along with his astronomy now is there?” 

“He’s awfully good with him,” Joan whispered to Rose as they cleaned the table. She’d brought Mr. Cutclose over for dinner; the conspiracy had been that the shy man would feel more comfortable in the home of his colleague (and he had been), and now the two of them would be going to the dance with John and Rose as a sort of foursome, a two of pairs. 

“I haven’t seen him smile in what feels like ages,” Rose whispered, pausing to look out the window at her brother and her... well, her good friend. They weren’t technically anything more, not that she hadn’t wanted...

He just reminded her so much of the Doctor. The tiny mannerisms, the boundless energy and tendency to find trouble in the most unexpected of places. His enthusiasm to teach and be taught in turn by every new experience. He was so, _so_ smart as well. And he was so good with Tony... 

No. He wasn’t the man she’d promised her forever to all those years ago, but he might be the one she could promise to spend _his_ forever with until she eventually lost him. 

She looked up, alarmed, as a bright flash of green lit up the minimal cloud bank over the forest. It burst in too standard a pattern to be ignored as a freak weather phenomenon, and her seasoned years as a Torchwood agent kicked in. 

Drying her hands, she ran out the front door and made for the general direction it seemed to be heading. A few moments later, a white shooting star flared over the sky. 

“Lily?” John called, concerned. She paused. 

“The light,” she said, smiling for all the world as if it were no big deal. “I just wanted to see where it ended up.”

“Freak meteor shower, the pieces will all have burned in the atmosphere by the time they get to Earth,” he said dismissively. “You can look through the telescope if you want.” Rose frowned.

“But-“

“Look, if you’re that determined to follow it out into the woods in the dead of night, then I’m coming with you.” _That_ made up her mind right then and there. Also the sorrowful, resigned look Tony was giving her, as if he’d already accepted that she’d leave him too at a moment’s notice just like Jackie and Pete. 

“I... no. I might take a wander when it’s light out.” She sighed. “What stars are we looking at tonight, huh?” 

Rose had just tucked Tony into bed as John came by the door.

“Leaving now,” he murmured quietly so as not to disturb the boy. She nodded, and he paused. “Lilian...”

“Yeah?”

She turned at the next moment and he was directly behind her, some unknown emotion flickering through his eyes, before he closed the distance and kissed her. She gasped into it, deepening it, and then sighed in pleasure. This was like homecoming. 

“Lilian, I’ve known you two months, but... I think they might just be the two best months of my life,” he whispered. She nuzzled into his chest and sighed contentedly as he wrapped his arms around her, and for a few moments they simply swayed back and forth to some indiscernible rhythm. 

From the doorway Lucie stood, unnoticed, a pained expression on her face but not sure how to fix things. It would only end in pain for both of them, but they were both well-gone by now.

~§~

The next morning Tony was in the commons frowning over his maths homework when Baines walked in. He wasn’t sure what tipped him off, but Baines was acting... strange. In a scary sort of way. Standing stiff, eyes unblinking. He sniffed the air for a few moments before his eyes narrowed on Tony and the boy flinched, squirming in discomfort. Luckily Hutchinson asked a question to the room at large about polynomials and it gave a distraction for him to slip away.

He made a beeline for John’s rooms, standing outside anxiously as he waited for the door to open. When it did he launched himself into John’s arms, causing the man to stumble backward with the unexpected weight of an eleven year old boy pulling him off-balance. 

“Hey now, what’s wrong?” John murmured, stroking the dark blond hair.

“Nothing,” Tony said quickly, pulling away. “Just... one of the other boys this morning...” John’s expression soured. 

“I see. Well, you sit tight and I’ll go fetch us a cuppa, shall I?” Tony nodded, smiling. Rubbing his hands, John took off down the hall with his Professor’s robes billowing behind him. 

Now alone, Tony became aware of a soft whispering noise. He frowned, getting up to search for it, and stopped when his gaze lit upon a standard pocket watch. He picked it up and the whispering abruptly ceased. Curious, he flipped the catch and took in a sharp breath as golden light poured from the watch. Some of it seemed to burn his skin, but mostly he just felt a warmth settle in his mind, like an unknown connection had been made. It was familiar, like... well, not like anything he’d ever felt before, not really. 

_Close it!_ A voice commanded sharply, and the catch snapped close on reflex.

_Sorry,_ Tony thought back in response, some strange instinct guiding him through the telepathic conversation.

_Who are you?_ The watch asked. It spoke with John’s voice, but it wasn’t John. _A connection like this, it requires... well. It’s certainly unusual._

_I’m Tony. Anthony Alastair Tyler._

_T- Tyler?_

_Yeah. Why? Also, why do you sound like my Professor?_

_Are you... are you Rose’s little brother?_ Came the tentative question. There was such a deep sadness behind it that it made Tony blink. 

_Yes._ Joy exploded in his mind, so intense he nearly fell out of his chair. 

_Your professor is me, but without my memories and human. Keep this watch safe, Tony. Don’t let on that you know. That’ll keep both me and your sister safe, not to mention Lucie and yourself._

_But who are you?_

_I’m the Doctor._

“Oh,” Tony breathed aloud, everything suddenly making so much more sense.


	2. Part II

_ Rewrite of S3E8 Human Nature (Part 2 of 2) _

“So, got the tea things. I- Tim? You okay?” Tony started as John walked in with a tray and smiled at the question. 

“Fine,” he chirped. “Just trying to move past what happened.”

“Young children can be incredibly cruel to their peers,” John sighed, setting the tray down. “Now, when I went to the Academy, such actions were encouraged. Within reason, anyway. The professors said it built character...”

_The Time Lord Academy of Gallifrey,_ The Doctor whispered from out of the watch. Tony flinched, but luckily John had been paying attention to other things. _Now that’s_ very _interesting. You can still hear me, even when the watch is closed and your focus is no longer upon it. You’re something unique, Tony Tyler. Your mind, it feels..._

Shock exploded across the telepathic exchange and the voice went entirely silent. Tony shivered and John immediately got up to stoke the fire, mistaking his reaction as being cold. 

“Now, I’ve been tasked with filling in for Winthrop this afternoon,” he said offhandedly. “Poor boy’s got pneumonia.” His lip curled in distaste. “I can’t abide senseless killing, much less the training of young children to act upon it. Horrible class, really; firing at scarecrows pretending they’re Natives. Horrible.”

“Most of the boys enjoy it,” Tony said quietly. “So don’t expect to have to work too hard to keep them interested.”

“Mm... well, drink up. I know it’s not your favorite class either, but if we don’t hurry we’ll both be late.” 

The shooting range was set up on the expanse of grass at the back of the field, on a terrace with a low stone wall and wide spaces cut into it. Into these spaces were piled sandbags and machine guns, and Tony grimaced as he was paired with Hutchinson. The noise of the gun was irritating to his senses - which had been more delicate than usual lately as he shook off the remains of a nasty head cold but seemed particularly bad this afternoon - and sighed in relief as the Headmaster approached.

“Well Mr. Tyler, I know this isn’t your cup of tea but your crew’s in fine form today.”

“Excuse me, Headmaster,” Hutchinson interrupted politely. Roscastle glanced down at him. “We could do a lot better. Latimer’s being deliberately shoddy.”

“I’m doing my best,” Tony replied mutinously. 

“And you need to be better than the best,” Roscastle tutted. “Those targets are tribesmen. From the Dark Continent.”

“But, that’s the problem sir. They only have spears.”

“Oh, dear me. Latimer takes it upon himself to realize how wrong we all are. I hope, Latimer, that one day you may have a just and proper war to prove yourself. Now, resume-“

“How can you possibly say that!?” John exclaimed, fists balling against his sides as he rounded on the Headmaster. “You _literally_ just said you wished for these boys to be subjected to bloodshed, violence, and threat to life and limb. And, if the weaponry isn’t bad enough, the problems of dysentery and disease rampant in the military camps. How _dare you_. There is _never_ , Headmaster Roscastle, any occasion where a comment such as that is to be justified in polite conversation. I kindly ask you to leave my class and continue with your rounds.” 

Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes; Professor Tyler never got angry, never indulged in the occasional outburst. But now he was livid, on the behalf of his students who were well aware he only ever had their best interests at heart and had taken up cases of abuse of faculty power on more than one occasion during his short two month stay. Roscastle gaped at him. When he made no move to leave John pointedly turned his back on him.

“I _said_ , sir, _good day_.” Roscastle huffed and stalked off. John took several deep breaths and then addressed the students. “Y- you’d better get on with your sets, boys. Personal opinions or no, as this isn’t my class I can’t cancel your lesson plan for the afternoon.”

Hutchinson returned to firing the gun and Tony pressed his fingers to his temples as pain flared across his scalp. An image of the boy, now a young man bloodied and muddy from the trenches of what he’d been taught in his history classes was World War I, flashed through his mind. Of him dying to the artillery. He didn’t even hear what Hutchinson said to John as he curled up on the grass and pressed his fists into his temples, sobbing. 

Strong arms scooped him up and began carrying him toward the school, and he burrowed as close as possible to the beating of John’s heart. Doors opened and closed, but he was lost in a sea of painful visions. 

_You’re sensing timelines,_ the Doctor whispered regretfully. The watch was warm in Tony’s pocket _. I think our connection is, shall we say, mucking things up in your mind._ _Still, the migraine will pass eventually. Children’s minds are strong and heal quickly, adapting to damage with far more determination than that of an adult’s simply because yours are still developing. Either that, or... never mind._

_There’s something you’re not telling me,_ Tony sniffled. It was no mean feat to sniffle in one’s mind, but sniffle he did. 

_No, no, no. It’s just a very implausible theory. After all, your sister isn’t telepathic and it runs in families._

_...Oh._

Rose came in like a force of nature as Lucie and Joan looked Tony over, and deciding that the less amount of stress he could have the better Lucie told John to in no uncertain terms ‘get rid of her.’ So he suggested they go for a walk after he’d bluntly explained what Lucie had asked for, and now they were headed into the village. 

“And he just collapsed?” She asked, clearly upset. John hummed in affirmative. “I always hated him having to do those awful exercises. ‘Mm just glad it was you teaching today instead of Winthrop. The man doesn’t understand trauma, and To- Tim’s had enough for lifetimes.” 

“I hate to ask, but what happened to your parents?” 

“They... they were in a plane,” Rose said carefully. “Dad... somehow cajoled someone into letting them onto a test flight. It exploded.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Of all the ways to go, something like that has to be one of the most awful.” 

“Thanks. But see, that’s why I’m so protective of him. Always have been.” A faraway look entered her eyes as two nearby men hoisted a piano by pulley and a mother and her baby in pram approached. “Since the day he was born... ‘scuse me, can I borrow this?” She asked, taking a cricket ball from a little boy and hurling it through the air. John watched, open-mouthed in amazement, as several things happened all at once.

The ball hit some upright metal pipes, which fell onto a wooden plank and sent a brick flying through the air, which hit a milk canister on a nearby cart, which fell in front of the pram and blocked the mother’s approach just before the rope holding the piano finally snapped and the massive instrument came crashing into the street. 

“How did you-“

“Lucky shot.”

“Mm...” he looked at her appraisingly. “No, see. I’ve _seen_ lucky. I’ve _been_ lucky. And let me tell you, you had to have calculated that.”

“Always liked numbers,” Rose said flippantly as she strolled on down the street. John huffed and chased after her, so she began to run. As they were pretty much even in height he was hard-pressed to gain any significant ground, but eventually he caught her far down the road near the tree line. He wrapped his arms round her waist and they both tumbled onto the grass, laughing. 

Their laughter faded as their eyes met, and slowly she reached up to brush some of his curling bangs out of his face as he knelt down a little more to kiss her. 

“I rather think I love you,” he whispered afterward. Rose stiffened and he pulled away quickly. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“Shut up,” she murmured as she snogged him. 

“But I- mm...” A stiff wind sprang up and they both shivered, pulling apart for air and laughing. “Oh, it’s cold.”

“Better get off the ground then, shouldn’t we?” 

~§~

Tony was sitting in the hallway waiting for Lucie to come and take him home since Rose and John were going to the dance when he spotted Baines crossing the steps of the school grounds by the forest path. The older boy stopped and sniffed the air, gaze suddenly alighting with frightening intensity on Tony through the window, and he was joined by a local man named Mr. Clark and the young Cartwright girl. All three of them stared at him, sniffing deeply, and turned their heads to the side in exactly the same manner. It was... terrifying. 

_They come in four,_ the Doctor whispered. _Run, Tony. Run. Find Lucie. Keep the watch hidden. Go._

Tony ran.

John’s jaw dropped as Lilian stepped out of her bedroom and into the cottage’s family area. He himself had smartened up for the occasion, for some reason deciding the scarf he usually had draped over his neck insufficient; the cravat felt oddly familiar and had the added bonus of being elegant but not too formal when paired with a standard grey dress suit and waistcoat. But Lilian...

She was wearing a champagne-colored evening gown that sparkles under the light and was adorned with pastel pink accents. The sleeves trailed in an angel cut cropped short just under the elbow, the neckline high but enticing of the collarbone, and the loose skirts were just short enough that they exposed her ankles. A sheer pastel pink shawl was draped over her shoulders, and under the light her golden hair seemed to shimmer. It was done up in a very loose, complex braided bun with the bangs left down and they curled to brush her shoulders. Hilariously, she was still refusing to wear heels and instead had simple flat black shoes on. 

“So, what do you think? Do I pass muster?” She asked, twirling in a slow circle and causing his blood pressure to get an up-close look at the constellations. 

“Marry me,” he whimpered helplessly. Lilian appeared startled for a moment before she smiled, flashing him one of those patent tongue-touched grins. 

“Skipping the whole courting process, huh?” She teased. He swallowed nervously.

“Ah. Sorry. I just- I don’t think I’d realized until now how much I love you.” There was a small moment of silence and unease chilled his blood. “Lily?”

“I do care for you John,” she murmured softly. He hung his head.

“But you don’t love me.”

“Hey, look at me,” she said, stepping closer and placing her hands on his chest. He reluctantly did as she asked and found that her gaze was sincere. “I do love you, and that scares me. Because the last time I fell for someone this hard and this fast... we both got hurt. I’ve been burned before, John. And I’d do it all again without a second thought if I didn’t have Tim to think about. Okay? But I do. And no matter what he will always come first. He’s got no one left except me, and I need to be there for him. So please, let me take this slow. I _need_ to take this slow, to make sure I’m not making a mistake that will hurt the both of us and have collateral as well. Tim likes you, a lot. So... please?”

“I don’t usually do the slow path,” John sighed. “But for you I’ll make the exception.” She nodded, relief flooding her features. 

“Good. Now, important question: do you actually know how to dance?”

“...Uh...”

~§~

Lucie had been in the middle of a particularly mundane task when Tim came running through the doors. 

“What are you-“ 

“They’ve found you!” The boy exclaimed, panting. He held out the watch. “The Doctor told me what you’re doing here. And the Family, they’ve come. I don’t know who the fourth one is possessing, but the other three have got Baines, Mr. Clark, and the Cartwright girl. Please, we need to find my sister and leave this place!” 

Lucie gaped at him for a few moments before nodding, grabbing his hand and running.

“I’m taking you to the cottage, where you’re going to stay until this is over,” she muttered. Tim ripped his arm from her grip.

“No! They’ll know to look for me there! I need to hide in the dormitories. Just, go! Get to the dance! I’ll find you after!” 

“Right, yeah. Of course. I’ll- I’ll lure the John - well, the Doctor - and Lily back to the school. Say you’ve fallen down the stairs or something, that’ll get them here right quick.” She ruffled his hair. “Thanks, Tim.”

“My name’s not Tim. It’s Tony. And my sister’s name is Rose. As in Rose Tyler?” Lucie whirled around and stared at him. 

“What, _seriously!?_ He fell for Rose _twice_ and this time neither of them know they’re falling for one another??”

“Nuh uh.”

“Okay, Mr. Impressive Time Lord, you _so_ owe me a beach holiday after all this,” she hissed, leaning close to the watch as she said it before dashing out of the room.

“Seems you’ve got a matching pair of one right foot and one left,” Rose teased as John took to a Waltz with the relative ease of a professional dancer. 

“Was there ever any doubt?” He asked, smirking. She rolled her eyes. 

“Please. You were doubting yourself on the way over.” They stepped impossibly closer to one another until her head was resting on his chest, and for the first time in a very long time she didn’t miss the second heart as much when it wasn’t there. John just... was. He was so good with Tony, he was so gentle and understanding of her... but if he knew the full truth... 

“I love you,” she whispered. John stumbled in his pacing. “But if we’re to continue this relationship further then I need to be completely honest with you. With you and Lucie both. I... I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

“Lily?” He asked softly, concerned. He led her to the side of the dance floor and loosely gripped her shoulders. “What do you mean?” 

“Can I tell you back at the cottage, when Lucie’s there?” She sighed. “I don’t want to have to say everything all over again. It’s probably going to take all night as it is.” 

“I’m worried now, darling. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why-“

“I’m a time traveler.” Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. He simply blinked at her, unable to form words. At that moment, Lucie came running in out of breath. 

“John, Lily. Come quick. It’s Tim. He fell down the stairs.”

“What!?” Rose exclaimed, shocked. She and John exchanged a horrified glance before rapidly moving to their table to collect their things, the conversation temporarily forgotten. As they were moving toward the door, the Family came in with an army of scarecrows behind them. Clark shouted for silence, and when this was not met he raised a laser gun and shot the offender into a pile of incinerated dust. 

Rose bit her lip, frowning. Just her luck. 

“WE WANT SILENCE!” Clark shouted again. Baines stepped forward, smiling. 

“Yes, we have a few questions for Mr. Tyler. Better yet, skulking in corridors is quite a profitable undertaking. I heard all about your conversation with the Latimer boy, Ms. Miller. I know that John Tyler is actually the Doctor.” He sighed, giving the man a once-over. “A pity really, that he took human form...”

“Of course I’m human, I was born human, same as you!” John protested, confused. Rose paled, her respiratory bypass kicking in as she forgot how to breathe.

_Figures,_ she thought with no small degree of exasperation. _Of course he turns himself human to hide from aliens and I don’t recognize him because he’s not fully himself_ and _he’s Regenerated. Typical. Absolutely typical._

“A human brain too,” Baines mocked.

“He’s no good like this,” Jenny sighed unhappily. 

“No.” Clark frowned. “We need a Time Lord.” Rose tensed again, checking the band of her biodamper. It was special, having been built to mask signatures on scans and also to mask true identity with a sneaky perception filter for organics. None of the aliens seemed to even notice her, and she sighed with relief only to tense again. But what about... could they tell, even then? 

“So we’ll make him change back,” Baines chuckled, raising a laser gun. Lucie snarled, launching herself at the maid Jenny. Rose took the opportunity to utilize her Torchwood training and superior physiology and tackled Mr. Clark, John gaping at the pair of them as if they’d gone mad. The Cartwright girl pulled a laser gun of her own out of a pocket and aimed it at him, causing the two women to freeze. “Yes, that’s right ladies. Another move and we aim to wound. As your species seems to care about pain being inflicted on others, I’d watch my step if I were you.”

“But- but this is madness!” John shouted, near hysterics. “I’m human!”

Far across the village, back in the school and hiding under Hutchinson’s bed (who would think to look there, seeing as he’d get a thrashing if Hutchinson discovered him?), Tony fumbled with the catch on the watch.

_Tony, what are you doing?_ The Doctor’s consciousness protested. _They’ll smell it!_

_That’s the idea_ , he replied shortly. _Rose is in trouble. Don’t ask me how, but I can sense it. In my mind. She’s scared. I’m opening the clasp, just a tiny bit. Just long enough for them to smell it and leave everyone else alone._

_But-_

_Sorry Doctor. But my sister comes first._

With that, he threw open the catch and grunted as a bright burst of golden energy slammed into his chest; the angle of the watch had positioned it perfectly to knock the wind from his lungs. Above, Hutchinson muttered something about strange lights and shifted about, waking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have never listened to Big Finish, Eight was pretty much docile and taking things as they came. But when something made him really, truly, PROPERLY mad... OOH BOY watch out for Cat 5 T-Storms...


	3. Part III

_ Rewrite of S3E9 Family of Blood (Part 1 of 2) _

The moment the watch was opened the Family stiffened, all looking toward the school through the window. 

“Time Lord,” Jenny growled from where she was pinned to the floor. “Forget the teacher. He’s somewhere in the school!”

“The watch,” Lucie whispered as the Family withdrew, her face ashen. “Tony has the watch.”

“Who’s Tony?” John asked, confused. Rose swallowed.

“Tim,” she said quietly. He turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “I- it- My name isn’t Lilian Latimer. It’s Rose Tyler. You- you’re the Doctor. And we were together, and then we were separated. I’m guessing, when you became human, the TARDIS gave you the surname ‘Tyler’ because of me.”

“What’s a ‘Tardis’?” 

“Never mind. We need to get back to Tony.” Rose rubbed at her chest and frowned. “He’s been hurt.” 

“How can you-“

“I’m not exactly human either,” she sighed. John’s eyes blew wide. 

“I’ve had all of these dreams of being different people, but I never thought...” he trailed off, cleared his throat, and eyed her coolly. “You knew. You knew I was the Doctor, but without his memories, and you- what? Dated me out of pity? Or were you just waiting for me to turn back into someone you knew?”

“She didn’t know until just now,” Lucie interrupted as Rose took a step backwards like she’d been slapped. “Although I do think part of the attraction was that you felt familiar in a way she couldn’t quite understand, she dated the human you. And before you ask, no. I’m not your cousin. I’m no Time Lord, and I’m definitely not from Gallifrey. I’m 100% 21st century human. But I’m your friend, and I’ve been watching out for you.”

“Doctor, my brother,” Rose pleaded. 

“Don’t call me that.” Her face fell. 

“John. They have Tony. Please, can we talk about this later?” 

“Were you ever planning on us talking about this at all?” He snapped. 

“Yes. The pieces about myself that I was aware of, if not who you were. But who I really am, all that has happened to me. That’s what I wanted to say at the cottage tonight after the dance.” John deflated with that admission, oddly comforted by the intent toward honesty, and nodded. 

“Right then. Let’s go rescue your brother.”

“And give you the watch.” 

“For all I care they can have the ruddy thing,” he muttered darkly. 

~§~

Tony came awake with Hutchinson shaking him frantically. 

“Gerroff,” he muttered, wincing as he raised himself into a sitting position. The rest of the dormitory room were all staring at him in concern.

“What were you doing under there!?” Hutchinson barked angrily. 

“Hiding.”

“From what?”

_Tony. Look out the window._

“From that,” Tony said simply, pointing. The boys crowded the panes and stared in panic.

“Why is Baines leading a group of people dressed as scarecrows toward the front gates with one of the maids and the little Cartwright girl?” Jenkins asked, confused. 

“They’re not people, they’re actually scarecrows.” Tony felt funny. He was warm all over. “And those aren’t Baines, Jenny, or Lucy Cartwright. They’re aliens. They’re not human, not anymore. Not from planet Earth.”

“They come from space?” Hutchinson exclaimed disbelievingly. “What, like you’d read in Verne books or something?” 

“More like Kepler’s _Somnium_ ,” Jenkins corrected absently. Tony coughed, and the other boys leapt back in surprise as bright gold energy escaped from his mouth. “What in-“

_Oh. Oh, no. Oh Tony, I’m sorry. Opening the watch released some of my temporal energy. It’s... well... this is all very not good, I’m afraid._

“What _was_ that!?” Hutchinson exclaimed, looking very much like he wanted to shake Tony’s shoulders but too scared to touch him. 

“I don’t know,” Tony muttered, curling into a ball on the floor. “My chest hurts...”

~§~

“They’ve already reached the school,” Lucie groaned. They were crouching behind some bushes peering out, watching the scarecrows surrounding the main entrance. Rose let out a soft gasp, her pupils visibly widening, and she released the in-drawn breath in a hiss. 

“Tony,” she muttered. “We need to get in, we need to get in now.” 

“But there’s no way,” John grumbled. Rose stood. 

“Yes, there is. Just... keep him safe, okay?” 

“Lil- _Rose wait!_ ” He and Lucy shouted as she took off running across the exposed green. The Family, the three of them present anyway, turned as one with eery synchronicity and began firing. For the most part she dodged the blasts, manipulating time around her as best she could when dodging was futile to give herself a bit more time. She could hear the TARDIS singing urgently in her mind now where previously there had been silence, singing a song of comfort but worry, and she pushed on. 

“She’ll gets herself killed!” John gasped. Lucie grabbed him by the arm and began pulling toward the side entrance, where they were able to get in unnoticed. 

“Don’t let that be in vain,” she snapped. “She’s protecting her brother, and the last thing she said to us was that we protect him too.” 

“I-“ he stared out the window for a few moments, looking lost, but nodded. “Yes. You... you’re right, Lucie. You usually are.”

“ _Now_ he admits it,” she muttered under her breath. “Come on then. Need to alert the Headmaster he’s being invaded.” As she spoke a bell began tolling out; it sounded like the bell signifying the time for class in the morning. 

“I get the impression he already knows.” 

As they rushed into the main hall with the students running in a panic, Roscastle barked at them from the stairwell. 

“Tyler! Don’t just stand there, man! Grab a gun! We’re under siege!” 

“John, where’s Lilian?” Cutclose asked worriedly as he and Joan came over. They’d witnessed the moment at the dance, but... 

“She- she said T- Tim was in trouble, so she distracted... so that we...”

“God in Heaven,” Joan murmured, hands coming up to clasp over her mouth in horror. 

As the other boys filed out of the dormitory, Hutchinson stayed and watched Latimer warily. It wasn’t that he actually hated the boy, it was just that he was first in the class. He had the affections of Professor Tyler, who regarded him like a family member, and he seemed genuinely brilliant. Odd, certainly, but then that was what happened when one lost their parents. 

His own father was distant, strict. With his grades falling and being knocked from the lead, he’d grown irritable. The promotion and subsequent transfer only added to the stress, and needless to say Hutchinson has been dreading going home on holiday. Picking on the new kid was standard procedure, especially when he showed everyone else up. 

But now... now, he just looked so helpless, lying there on the floor. Helpless and vulnerable. Hutchinson had no idea what was going on with the gold light, but... still. 

“Not dying on me now Latimer,” he muttered, slinging the scrawny boy over his shoulder and running for the kitchens. They could hide in the cupboards, and there were plenty of potential weapons. If the boy was right and they really were scarecrows, fire seemed a good option. 

~§~

Rose breathed deeply as she dragged herself handhold by handhold into her cottage, pain blossoming through her body in the form of white heat. They’d gotten in, but she’d been struck a glancing blow to her abdomen. Bleeding out had no comparison to burning inside out 

She kicked closed the bedroom door, thankful the curtains were shut, and grabbed a pillow. She bit down on the soft material as she exploded with golden light, muffling her screams.

“Stay away,” Hutchinson whimpered as Lucy Cartwright approached, eery with the still mannerisms of an adult in the body of a child. 

“Give us the Time Lord,” she hissed. “Give us the Hybrid.”

“The _what!?_ ” Hutchinson gripped the butcher’s knife more tightly, frightened. She was just a little girl, but there was something inside of her. Something deadly. Despite that, the face it wore was innocent. 

She’d picked flowers for him once because he’d helped her tie her shoe. 

This wasn’t her. But he couldn’t. 

_Tony. Open the watch. Show her the chaos of infinity in its terrible raw power._

Groggily, Tony fumbled with the catch on the watch and did as he was told. Lucy screamed and ran, entirely terrified of just what her mother and father had been trying to give her, Hutchinson springing away in alarm, and as he closed it he slumped against the wall entirely spent. Dull heated pain was wracking his body and enduring that for an extended period of time was proving impossible. He looked at his rescuer and frowned.

“You saved me,” he mumbled, confused.

“Well, yeah. I may be a bully, but I’m no coward nor murderer. These things are creepy and they want to kill us. Makes them the enemy. Simple as that.” 

“I guess.” 

~§~

John swallowed as the doors of the school burst open and the boys set loose the rain of machine gun bullets. Scarecrows slumped to the ground right and left, and as the barrage peetered out Roscastle called for a ceasefire as he went to check for signs of life. He straightened up abruptly, oblivious of the stifled sobs and sniffles of the children. 

Yes, children. Not boys training to become young men, but children. Who had had guns thrust into their hands by a person of authority and were told to kill. 

“Straw. Just straw. Extraordinary thing...”

“So- so we didn’t kill anyone, sir?” Jenkins asked in a very small voice that broke John’s heart. 

“No, you didn’t,” he soothed. “None of you are murderers. Mr. Roscastle, shouldn’t our prime concern be for the safety of our students rather than inanimate bricks and mortar?” Roscastle’s expression grew thunderous, but with the other Professors looking at him expectantly he huffed and nodded. “Right then. Boys, into the woods. Out the kitchen door, to safety. Keep running, and don’t stop until you’re well deep in the trees. You older boys, take the guns. Protect the younger boys. And _stay. Together._ Your teachers will follow after. Go.” 

Not needing to be told twice, the children fled. 

“If you _ever_ overstep my authority ever again-“ Roscastle started, trailing off as John interrupted him dismissively. 

“Mr. Roscastle, I think it’s safe to say that after this experience you’ll never see me again,” he muttered. “I’m taking my resignation.” As the boys flooded out of the school he went looking for Rose, Lucie on his heels. The pair came to a skidding halt and hid behind the stair banister as Mr. Clark stalked into the hallway, looking irritated.

“Did you find it?” Baines asked impatiently. “Did you find his TARDIS?”

“No,” the man growled. “It was too well hidden. Without a direction to go looking it’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Ah. No matter. We can have all the time in the universe to waste once we’ve got the Time Lord’s immortality.” 

“At least they don’t have the TARDIS,” Lucie sighed softly as the Family moved off. They moved in the opposite direction. 

“What exactly _is_ a TARDIS??” John whispered back fiercely, confused.

“Your time and space ship.”

“I don’t have a time and spaceship, Lucie Miller, and you should know. You’ve complained often enough about how I never take you anywhere interesting.” 

“Not- not _you_ you, John. _Doctor_ you.”

“He’s just a story,” John muttered uncomfortably. “Has to be.”

“Why?” 

“Because if he’s not... he always hurts,” he whispered. 

Latimer mumbled incoherently as Professor Cutclose picked him up and ran into the forest after the other children - Hutchinson had gone with the rest. He was muttering about parallel universes, and Joan felt his forehead with a worried murmur.

“He’s burning up Edwin,” she sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” 

“What’s his pulse?” Cutclose asked. She felt for it and frowned. That can’t be right.” 


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way the Doctor and Rose met is loosely based on and replaces the way Mel made her debut, but she was still a companion. She just had a different entrance.

_ Rewrite of S3E9 Family of Blood (Part 2 of 2) _

_Ba-Thump. Ba-Thump. Ba-da-Thump. Ba-da-Thump. Ba-da-Thump. Ba-da-da-Thump. Ba-da-da-Thump. Ba-da-da-Thump. Ba-da-da-Thump..._

Rose winced as she came to with the foreign feeling of a twin heartbeat in her chest, finding the effort to sit upright difficult but necessary. She caught her reflection in the mirror and sighed; she still looked the same. The ring was still in place masking her scent. It was all...

Tony. Oh, God. Tony. 

“Rose?” Her hearts skipped a beat.

_The Doctor. Well, at the moment, John Tyler. But he was there, he was real, she was home..._

“Rose!”

“In here!” She called. The gentle tread of frantic pacing turned into the rapid thud of running shoes, and a moment later he and Lucie were bursting into the room.

“You’re hurt,” he yelped. 

“I’m not, not anymore,” she said quickly, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them comfortingly. “How was Tony?” 

“We couldn’t find him,” Lucie sighed as John took a shuddering breath and scooped Rose into his arms. He held her there, refusing to let go, while Lucie moved to draw the curtains on the cottage and made sure everything was bolted and shut. “Roscastle went to war and we had to get all the boys out.” 

“I can still feel him, in here,” Rose muttered, tapping her temple. “I think he’s unconscious, but other than that... he’s still him, and alive. That’s all that matters to me right now. I’m a bit disoriented from my regeneration, but-“

“Hang on, hang on,” Lucie interrupted, holding her hands out as she stared at Rose with wide eyes. “You _regenerated!?_ ”

“What’s that mean?” John asked, confused. 

“When _you_ do it, you change everything about you on the outside,” Lucie explained. “Face, body, eyes, hair, voice... and personality. The memories are the same, the same convictions of what’s right and wrong, and honestly the personality keeps the same traits but mixes up which ones are more dominant than the others each time. But Rose. Rose still looks and acts the same, sounds the same.”

“I used to be human, but then I uh, I... mm. Well, I sorta opened the Heart of the TARDIS and took the entire Time Vortex into my mind. Now I’m a fully Gallifreyan Time Lady. Two hearts and everything, now.” John frowned at that, then seemed to register the feeling of her heartbeat against his chest from the way he was holding her and his mouth dropped open, working uselessly to communicate _something_ that was obviously of great importance to him. 

“My Auntie Pat told me to never change myself for a man,” Lucie said with a _tsk_ that was ruined by the knowing smirk and wink. “So, you made yourself like him. Except now he’s like how you used to be and has amnesia.” 

“Sounds about right.”

“I’m sitting _right here,_ ” John grumbled. He looked hurt. “So, I don’t have a choice then? If I want to be with you I have to open the watch? I can’t- I can’t stay me?”

“If you want to you can,” Rose murmured, her voice tight. “But it’ll cause us both pain. You’ll grow old without me, and both of us will resent that a little on both sides. But, I would stay.”

“But you’ll still love him.”

“Yes, I will. Because he’s you. I see no difference between you, John. In the beginning you were separate, and I thought that I would never be with anyone other than the Doctor, but now you are all I see. No matter what face you wear or how many hearts beat in your chest, I will always love you.” She bit her lip and brushed the pad of her thumb along his cheek. “I just wish that, no matter which you chose, you’d remember everything we’ve been through together if there was never anything else you ever recovered of your memories.” 

Quite suddenly, he did remember. Maybe it was a simple matter of it being too much for a human brain in its entirety and the small portion of his life they’d spent together was tiny, but he remembered. 

_He was wearing a different body and had been put on trial for something he hadn’t done by the Time Lords, and there in the witness box giving an honest account of his character was a blonde girl with a tongue-touched grin that he’d never met before. She was, they told him, a future companion. She was pretty, smart, resourceful, quick on her feet, and resiliently stubborn._

_When they’d sorted out the whole business with the Valeyard she’d given him one of those patent smiles and before she’d left she’d snogged him within an inch of his life, laughing as she walked out of a room of properly scandalized Time Lords._

_He’d later met her in the basement of a Henrik’s in London, he’d blown up her job, and they hadn’t stopped running since._

It wasn’t the whole story, the intricate layers of pain and meaning locked away in his own mind, and for the first time since learning he was supposed to be someone else he was left wondering if he actually missed being that person. Being the person meant for Rose, as she was meant for him. They’d meshed together so easily when they’d met, and now... 

“If- If I were to open the watch, they’d know,” he murmured. “They’d smell me, or something.”

“No but- but hang on,” Lucie interrupted, pointing at Rose. “You’re a full Gallifreyan Time Lady. How can they not smell you?”

“Because of this,” Rose explained, holding up her hand and revealing the ring on her ring finger. “It acts as a perception filter and bio damper all rolled into one, but it only works because they didn’t see me before.”

“Yeah, but...” Lucie began pacing. “They think, right now, that the Doctor is human.”

“Because I _am_ human,” John muttered irritably. Lucie stuck out her tongue at him and it made him feel a bit better that their relationship seemed to be entirely real instead of fake interaction. 

“If he were to put on one just like yours, wouldn’t they still see a fobwatched Time Lord turned human?” Rose stared at Lucie for a few moments in awe before replying.

“Lucie Miller, you are absolutely _brilliant_.”

“I try. But does he have one of those?” Rose turned to John with a smile. 

“Yep. Round his neck on a chain, where he always keeps it,” she said softly. “Like me.” 

“My- apparently false- memories thought it belonged to my father,” he murmured, interested as he pulled the chain out from under his shirt and examined the ring on it. After a few moments he fiddled it off and laid the ring on the table. “But still no watch. Tony has it, and he’s in trouble.”

“Actually...” Rose’s brow furrowed before she let out a sigh of relief. “He’s right outside.” The two humans jumped as a soft knock echoed from the front door, and hesitating only briefly Lucie opened it up. Joan dashed in, followed by Edwin Cutclose carrying an unconscious little boy, and he carefully laid him on the couch. 

“We’re so glad we found you here,” Joan panted. “Tim’s burning up, and his pulse is completely wrong. And what’s more, he-“ at that moment Tony coughed, golden energy lightning up the room. Rose drew in a sharp breath and scurried over to the young boy. “There’s that.” 

“He’ll be fine,” Rose muttered after examining his eyes. She gently pulled the watch from his tight fingers and closed her eyes briefly as she felt the mental signature of her lover caress hers tenderly.

_Hello my darling,_ the Doctor whispered. _It’s time. You’ve all kept me safe, but now I need to be my proper self to protect Tony. They know about him, Rose._

There was a meaningful pause. 

_They know what he is._

_Which is what, exactly?_

_You already know._

“John?” Rose called quietly. He stood and came forward as she turned to the other three people in the room. “Lucie, can you take Joan and Edwin to the TARDIS please? They’ll be safe there. And Edwin, if you could carry Tim that would be wonderful. John and I have something we need to do alone.”

“Be careful,” Lucie whispered as the two adults followed her out the door with a sleeping Tony in the librarian’s arms. When they were gone Rose held out the watch to John, who looked at it sadly. Seconds later they were flat on the floor, several chairs upended, as a bombing barrage of plasma fire erupted and rained down upon the village.

“Do they really have such contempt for life as to do something like that?” John gasped. Rose snuggled closer to him as they stared in horror out the window. Wincing at the sore spot on his head, he fumbled about on the ground until his fingers wrapped around the watch. He abruptly let go with a shudder; the best way to describe the feeling was that the Doctor was pacing, frantic with worry. He was awake in the watch and terrified something would happen to the people he loved. 

“You felt him, didn’t you?” Rose asked. He nodded. 

“Can you?”

“All the time. Benefits of being of the same species and... connected.”

“You could hardly have founded a Bond when you were fully human, the synaptic pathways-“ John shivered and stared at her with wide eyes. “Does he always talk like that? Ten miles a minute, five hundred things rattling around in his head at all times?”

“Never shuts up, really,” Rose sighed, the ghost of a smile on her face. “But I find it adorable.”

“Oh, well if you say so.” He followed her with his eyes as she picked up the watch, turning over and over absently in her fingers. “You’re sure he loves you? As much as I love you?” He asked, reaching for the watch. It burned suddenly, caught between their two palms, and he gasped as he fell into a pool of churning memories.

~§~

_“You’re sure you don’t mind though?” Rose asked as they walked away from the festival. “That bloke was certified. By the laws on my planet, we just accidentally got married at a LARPing tournament just outside Bristol in the year 2037.”_

_“I don’t mind if you don’t,” the Doctor replied with a shrug. They had their hands clasped together and he absently touched the ring hung from his neck with his free one. His expression saddened slightly. “You’d never be able to partake in Gallifreyan vows, I’m afraid. They’re entirely telepathic - well, the stuff that actually matters - and has to be equally sustained by both parties. This is as close as we could get.”_

_“Hang on, you mean you’d thought about marrying me before now?” Rose asked, tugging on his sleeve until they cruised to a halt underneath a cherry tree. The Doctor nodded._

_“Not in the same way you see it I assume,” he hastened to explain. “But on occasion. Usually when your mother corners me in her flat and demands I, and I quote, ‘make an honest woman of you,’ and I fear for my life.”_

_“Good ol’ Mum,” Rose laughed. “Come on then. We can tell her the news so she’ll stop badgering you, and when she looks like she might slap ya because it isn’t what she thinks a_ proper _declaration of commitment should be like I can distract her by mentioning that the entire royal family may or may not be werewolves.”_

_“Oh, she’ll get a kick out of that, to be sure.”_

_Vivid flashes of color. Of sunsets and sunrises, of stolen kisses and heartfelt embraces. Of tender sentiments and desperate reassurance. Passionate nights and lazy mornings. Them. He always thought to the future, of the eventual pain, but he was willing to just_ be _with her._

~§~

“Oh,” John breathed as the memories faded. Rose bit her lip and nodded. “Oh.” He then glanced down at the watch, then at her, and flashed her the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever yet given. “Well then that’s all right then.” He put the ring on his ring finger to mask the energy, drew her in and kissed her passionately, and while they shared the kiss he opened the watch. Rose whimpered as the telepathic energy left the watch and strengthened until she was wrapped in his mental embrace; they both shivered as a permanent Bond snapped abruptly into place between them.

“Been wanting to do that for ages, even before it was possible,” the Doctor murmured softly, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. He examined their connection and the other one binding them together and his disposition became incredibly serious. “Rose, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know then,” she whispered. “I found out a day after and cried for ages that I was less than 24 hours too late to tell you. My mum _was_ pregnant. But she... she had a miscarriage.”

“Why does Tony think you’re his sister?” 

“It was my mum’s idea, actually. We were all worried someone would notice how special he was, and if the dad wasn’t in the picture for me it looked more suspicious. She named him after her dad. I agreed, then got his middle name and made sure it was Alistair.” She bit her lip. “We were going to tell him on his tenth birthday. But then, a month before, Mum and dad were in a Zeppelin crash. Tony was so traumatized I knew that adding that on top of everything else was a horrible idea.” 

“He opened the watch and got hit with some pure artron energy,” the Doctor confessed. “It’s rewriting his physiology to be purely Gallifreyan. The human bits would have caused him trouble when he got older simply because he wasn’t given proper care in utero. Not your fault, obviously. The half of the DNA causing problems was mine, which you knew nothing about.” 

“I’m just relieved he’ll be okay.” 

~§~

It feels like ages after the Doctor’s dropped the family back on the planet he found them on to live out the rest of their natural lives before dying, after Lucie has moved all her things back into the TARDIS and disappeared for the longest bath ever, and the Doctor and Rose dropped Edwin and Joan off at the school with strict instructions to never speak of what happened with anyone else. 

Ages since the TARDIS went all out in creating a room for Tony, who had been scanned thoroughly and while exhausted had nothing wrong with his new physiology. Ages since Rose explained his true parentage and he walked from the infirmary without another word to be left alone in his room. 

But only minutes, it feels like, since the Doctor was allowed to hold Rose in his arms as they both caught up on some much-needed sleep in their bed. 

“Is he angry?” He asked, tracing light Gallifreyan designs on her bare shoulder. 

“Not at you,” Rose said after a pause. “He’ll take longer to come around to me than he will you. Great news, huh dad?” 

“...That’s going to take some getting used to,” he chuckled softly before falling silent. “Rose, I told you before that I had a wife, that I was a father. That I messed it all up so royally I was lucky Susan wanted anything to do with me. I’m worried about failing this time around as well.”

“You’re gonna be great at it,” Rose hummed, rolling over until she was partly on top of him so that she could use his chest as a pillow. “Our kids are gonna love you.”

“Mm. ‘Kids,’ huh? The plural rather than the singular on that one.” 

“If you want. I thought I’d hate being a mum, but I love Tony to bits. And, if you set a reasonable limit, I wouldn’t mind too much.” He laughed softly at that. 

~§~

It took Tony all of two days to start tentatively calling the Doctor ‘Doctor’ instead of ‘John,’ and two full months before he began calling him the Gallifreyan word for father. He refused to say it in English out of respect for his grandfather Pete, something the Doctor entirely understood. 

As for Lucie, she was ‘Aunt Lucie’ practically from the moment they all met each other for breakfast the first morning after dealing with the Family.

It took longer for him to forgive Rose for not saying anything. About four months before he actually talked to her without prompting from someone else, and two years before he began on occasion calling her the Gallifreyan word for mother, again refusing to disrespect his grandmother Jackie by saying it in English. 

“I have a question for you,” the Doctor murmured one evening, long after a 139 year old Tony had gone to his room for the evening. From a human perspective he was maybe fourteen or fifteen. 

“What would that be?” Rose mumbled around the purr emanating from her throat. 

“You said a long time ago that if I set a reasonable limit, you wouldn’t mind...” he trailed off as Rose quieted. “What exactly would a reasonable limit be?”

“1-2,” she said breathlessly. He made matters worse by kissing the remaining oxygen from her mouth. 

“Perfect.”

It ended up being 2-3, but only because there was an unexpected two for one special for the second experience. 

~§~

_Years later, Tony walked toward the WWI memorial with uncertain steps. All this time, the four centuries he’d lived, and the idea of doing this still made him nervous. But there was Hutchinson, standing there with a red poppy on his lapel, and when he saw Tony his jaw dropped in disbelief. There was no resentment there however, and after a few moments he smiled._

_Tony smiled back and went to say hello, and a hearty ‘thank you’ for saving his life all those years ago._

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE BBC, DOCTOR WHO, AND ANY OTHER KNOWN AFFILIATES. THE AUTHOR SEEKS NO MONETARY GAIN FROM THIS WHATSOEVER.


End file.
